Definition
by Kitty Howell
Summary: The moments that define Wesvis.


(A/N) Woo! My first Common Law fic. I nearly spazzed when I saw that we had a fandom here now. Word to the wise, most of this is betaed but some I did myself(to which, you will learn is not always a good thing). I had finished this a couple days ago and handed it to my sister to edit. She did, except for the small smexy part cause that's how she is, lol. And then, of course, I watched the fourth episode and it contradicted part of the story so I had to go back and fix it.

I do not own Common Law.

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**Definition**

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Travis and Wesley met at a sharp shooting competition seven years before they ever heard the words 'Couples Therapy'. Travis had just won his first solo partner case as Detective with Phil and was walking around with a new sense of pride he actually felt like he deserved and was taking that pride out and showing it a good time. Wesley had just lost the client he spent weeks promising everything would be okay to. He'd spent countless hours going over the evidence and practicing and telling himself as well as his client that they had this. They didn't, and an innocent man went to jail and Wesley found himself at the competition; just to get out of the house, just to blow off steam.

There were a lot more people there than either thought there would be. At least twenty people were competing and there were countless others there to cheer for someone. Others just came to watch the shooting. Neither Travis nor Wesley had anyone there for them. Alex was scared of guns and Travis had just dumped his latest girlfriend. The two started on opposite ends of the competition and slowly made their way to one another.

They saw each other for the first time during the semi - finals. Wesley was up against a war veteran who seemed to shoot as good as he probably did thirty years prior. Travis was taking on someone who just took up shooting as a hobbie and had won the years previous competition three years running. Neither one was paying attention to their opponents, though, because they were too busy watching one another. Somehow they knew it would be the two of them left. Neither was sure how, but they just knew.

When Wesley and Travis moved to shake one another's hands before they started, Wesley noticed the badge on Travis' hip and felt a shiver go up his spine. Travis instantly looked him up and down, taking in the fancy suit and the expensive shoes and asked, "So, what do you do for a living?"

"I'm a lawyer," Wesley said back, the word bitter on his tongue.

"What's your name?"

"Wesley."

"Nice to meet you, Wes," he said, "I'm Travis, and I'm sorry I have to humiliate you in front of so many people."

"It's Wesley." He was so put off by the nickname he didn't even catch the second half of his sentence.

"Whatever you say, Wes."

Wesley Mitchell and Travis Marks for the final match of the day. Who will walk away victorious?

"Mitchell," Travis said, eyes narrowing. "Wesley Mitchell...I know that name."

Wesley felt his eyes go wide and his heart start to race.

"Yeah," Travis said, his face lighting up a little, "You lost the Hammerson case." Wesley wanted to scream at him but then Travis frowned and said, "Man, I told Brady that guy was innocent."

"What," Wesley asked, confused and relieved.

"I don't care what the evidence said," Travis elaborated, seemingly oblivious to Wesley's feelings. "Sometimes it's not as it seems." He focused once more on Wesley and said, "Sorry about that, man."

"It was my fault," Wesley said before he could stop himself, "I lost."

Travis eyed him for a moment before speaking, "The relationship between lawyers and police is delicate. If the police can't find the right evidence and solve the case, an innocent man can go down. And if they do, the prosecution can still lose." Travis shrugged, "It's not your fault Brady couldn't see what was in front of him." Travis shrugged again, the pride back in his face. "That's why I became a cop."

"Why?"

Travis looked him in the eye and smirked, "I don't make mistakes."

"Um, are you guys ready?"

They both turned to look at the referee and the announcer, along with everyone there who was looking back at them. Wesley felt his cheeks heat up and Travis just gave them a little wave before they took their positions. Their conversation gave Wesley the confidence he needed and he managed to beat Travis. It was only by one point, but it still counted. Travis looked wounded, like his ego had jumped out the window and hitched a ride out of town. But he also looked...kinda proud.

"Good job, Wes."

"Thanks," he said, ignoring the nickname or not caring. He wasn't sure. He shook Travis' hand and walked away feeling better than he had in the longest time. And it wasn't because of the red trophy.

The next day, he quit the firm and joined the police academy.

…

Travis wasn't sure where his partner was. Phil wasn't listening to him anyway, so he didn't consider it much of a loss. Phil was being his normal self, and Travis wasn't sure how much more he could take. They'd been partners for three years, and he couldn't honestly remember a time when they were ever okay. It wasn't like they fought a lot. In fact, the two rarely fought at all. They just never spent much time together outside work and even when they were working, it was all business and rarely anything more. He wasn't sure where he went or when he'd be back, but that wasn't about to stop him from doing his job.

This case was driving everyone to the cliffs of Hell and back. Girls kept going missing in and around L.A.. A few of them had been recovered, though most of them had been dead. The lucky one, if one could call it that, suffered from post traumatic stress syndrome and could tell them little to nothing about the man who took her or where she had been. It was like she had no memory of what happened, and only that something terrible had happened that left her a shell of her old selves.

The last time Travis saw Phil was when he ran off to run a lead that Travis swore on his own life would turn up dead. Something didn't feel right about it but Phil didn't listen to him. Travis wasn't sure why that bothered him so much. It wasn't like Phil ever did. The missing ten girls and the newly legal girl taken just the day was probably the best bet as to why.

When another call came in for another dead body matching the MO of the other victims, Travis didn't stop to think of where Phil was. He was tired of his partner never listening to him and was determined to do something about it. He decided to take his motorcycle, something he did often when partnered with Phil. It didn't take long to reach the crime scene, and wasn't at all surprised that Phil wasn't there. He didn't look like a detective, apparently, because he had to flash his badge to three different beat cops before they would let him behind the tape. He glared at them as he walked by and then focused on the crime scene.

There must have been six or seven police officers there, not including himself. They were all standing around talking, or guarding the tape line like hounds. There was one particular officer standing close to the body, his hands covered in gloves and his head down as he scribbled away on his notepad. Travis was a little put off that he felt so behind, but walked over anyway. He would probably know more than anyone else there.

"What do we got," he asked, his eyes focused on the lifeless form in the dumpster. He already knew what they had, but he had to hear it. There was something sobering about it. It made him work better. Travis and the beat cop looked at one another at the same time, and froze.

"Wes," Travis said, his voice slightly questioning but mostly confused.

Wesley felt his face heat up a little and cleared his throat, as if to get rid of some of the obvious tension. He ignored the nickname, not wanting to get into a fight with a detective. Especially at a crime scene. "Detective Marks," he said, nodding his head. "There isn't an I.D on the body but her shirt is torn and her underwear is missing. It looks to be the same as the others."

"Who is this guy..." Travis mumbled to himself.

"Someone who knows The Shadow Place pretty well, I think."

"Huh?"

Wesley blushed. "It's a club not too far from here. I had a client who used to work there, once. It's full of people who are into sex games and other kinky things. It's a members only club and you have to wear something professional or more conservative while going in. Most people don't want others to know what they're up to."

"That would explain why no one seemed to know where the girls were before they disappeared..." Travis mumbled, just loud enough for Wesley to hear. "I told Phil the guy was picking up all the girls at the same place. There was nothing else connecting the girls, not hair, race, eyes. Nothing." He paused before turning around and starting to walk away. When he realized Wesley wasn't following him, he turned back around. "Hey, you coming?"

"Coming where?"

"To the club." Wesley smiled before following him.

Days later, after the two worked non-stop, following one lead and finding all the evidence and disobeying every order they were given by someone, the two arrested Derek Winters, the bouncer of the club. He confessed to everything in ten minutes, Travis and Wes walking away with smiles on their face. As they were leaving, Travis' partner appeared out of nowhere, practically shoving Wesley out of the way.

"Hells yea, we did it, partner," Phil screamed, "who's that?" he pointed to Wesley but didn't wait for anyone to answer, "Booya! Look at us!"

The news reporters swarmed them a moment later, and Travis began talking before anyone else could. "I was able to solve this case with the help of Wes Mitchell, a very promising patrol officer."

"Why weren't you working with your partner on this one?" one of the woman asked.

Travis blurted the first thing that came to his mind and the one thing he kept telling himself not to say, "Because my partner wasn't listening to me."

The next day, Travis came back to work to find his partner's desk empty. Everyone was looking at him questionably, but he just smiled and went on with his afternoon, like he knew what was going on. He finished up the reports of the case and just sat there, wondering if anyone was going to get murdered any time soon.

"Marks," his captain finally called to him, only two hours and four minutes after he returned to the office. "He's gone," Sutton said, and Travis' first thought was that he was glad. Then it hit him. Travis honestly didn't know how to feel. Phil was never a great partner or friend, but he was still his partner. "That little stunt you pulled with the papers broke his heart."

"No, everyone talking to him like he isn't some hero is breaking his ego." Travis mumbled but he couldn't help but feel a little guilty.

"I'm pairing you with Brady."

"Whoa," Travis said, his hands pushing forward in a 'slow down and halt' sort of motion. "Brady? Come on, Captain. No. Can't it be anyone else?"

"There is no one else," Mike told him, "I have to go over applicants to bring someone in and Brady's partner is sick with the flu." A pause, "Unless you know someone willing and able to come to our side."

"You know..." Travis told him, "I actually do..."

…

Things start out a little rocky at first. Wesley didn't exactly fit in and while the other detectives were making fun of him, Travis was the one standing up for him. It wasn't something Travis was used to, and Wes hated the fact that he did it. They didn't know anything about one another and Wesley found himself annoyed that Travis was all over the woman they worked with. He understood the friend zone territory with Alex, though, so Wesley couldn't complain too much. Travis quickly discovered that, yes, Wesley really_ was_ OCD and could not stand being out of control of anything. That didn't mean they didn't try to make it work. Wesley didn't want to go back to protroll and Travis couldn't stand the sight of Brady.

There was also the added problem that Travis told everyone he won the competition. Brady nearly had a field day when Wes came in with the little red plack in his small box of belongings.

"Hey, Wes," Travis said as he sat down at his desk across from Wesley.

"Wesley," the blond corrected without thinking about it. He hated that name, always had and he didn't see it changing anytime soon. He wasn't sure why Travis was so intent on calling him it, but one way or another, he would get him to stop.

Before Travis could say anything, their captain was over with a case for them. The two gathered their things and headed out the door, their minds focused completely on the case. They ran over the details with one another in the car in-between Wesley yelling at Travis for putting his feet on the dash and trying to eat when he knew it was against the rules.

Travis became more and more tense as they made their way to the home of the victim. When Wesley pulled up to the residence, Travis took one look and froze. Wesley was about to ask him what was wrong when Travis quickly got out of the car and ran up the driveway into the house. Wesley didn't even turn the car off. He was hot on his heels. Wesley was taken back by the smell of the home and felt himself choke a little. Travis looked disheveled and scared and it scared Wesley in return.

The police officer there told them what happened and left them to do their jobs. Travis leaned down and pulled the white cover back, his heart stopping at the sight of the young African boy, completely lifeless and cold. He had been dead for hours, and no one had bothered to call the police. There was crying down the hall and Travis hurried down it to make sure everything was alright. Travis couldn't see anyone, but he knew they were there. Somewhere.

There was a woman sitting in the chair a few feet from the body. She was shaking, despite it being warm in the house and outside. She was coming down from a high, Wesley could tell, and by the look of things she wasn't talking to anyone. As Wesley leaned down to talk to her, Travis called for police officers to come in back, and one by one five small children of different races and ages were brought from the back in the arms of a police officer and led outside.

"Where his he, Sasha?"

"Who?" Her voice was distant. She was a million miles from there.

Travis quickly grew angry, an actual anger that scared Wesley, "Where is Frank?"

"I don't know a Frank."

"Who's Frank?" Wesley cut in before Travis completely lost his temper.

"Her husband," Travis spat and the two started looking around for signs of where he could have gone. Travis found a note about a baseball game, and the two were gone before the others arrested Sasha. They found him at the stadium, drunk and babbling about the stupid players, despite their team winning five to nothing. Travis yanked him to his feet and arrested him before another pitch was made and they made it out without too many people noticing.

Back at the station, during the interrogation, Frank admitted to everything despite his lawyer telling him to shut up multiple times. The boy - Johnny - had pissed Frank off. Frank couldn't remember what it was, but he slammed Johnny into the wall and kicked him multiple times. He laid on the floor hours before he died. The call to 911 was placed in their home, but none of the other kids would admit to doing it. They were too scared.

"Come on, Wes," Travis said, his voice quiet and strained. He left without another word. Wesley was right behind him until Frank's voice stopped him.

"Wes," he said, "is that what Travis calls you, detective?"

"How do you know Travis?" They had never mentioned their first names to him.

"I raised him," Frank said, "for a while anyway. I used to be his daddy."

Wesley felt his heart drop as he put all the pieces of the puzzle together. He went to leave once more, too disgusted to stay in the room any longer, when Frank spoke again.

"He must really like you."

Wesley paused, wanting to ask how Frank would know that but also just wanting to find Travis.

"He only calls people who he likes by a nickname," Frank told him, "Always did."

Wesley left and found Travis in the bathroom five minutes later. His hands were pressed up against the sink, his eyes closed. "Come on, Trav," he said, putting his hand on his shoulder, "let's get you home." He had never called Travis by a nickname before. It felt weird on his tongue, but it was all he could say. He hoped Travis got the message.

He must have, because just like that, as rocky as their start was, they were great together once they get all their feet firmly on the ground. They solved their cases faster than the other detectives and had the highest rate on getting the right purp the first time. The captain thought they were the greatest thing since Agent Burke got Caffery to be his consultant. While he and his wife were going through a hard time, he put them in charge more often than was probably ethical.

The two had dinner together and drinks more than Wes remembered having with Alex when the two first started dating, but neither really thought of the implications of it all. Travis crashed on the bed in the spare room of Wes and Alex's house and Wes slept on Travis' couch more then he did in his own bed some weeks. They had spare clothes at each other's house and joked and laughed more than they had in their entire lives.

It was never perfect, of course. They fought and argued, but they always made up afterward. They hurt each other's feelings and laughed it off later with drinks and the football game. The two were so completely different no one knew how they could get along, and when anyone tried to figure it out or even ask how the one dealt with each other, the two would ignore it and move on. They didn't want to mess with a good thing. They had each other and that was the way they wanted it to stay.

Wesley became Wes. It got so big that everyone started calling him it, including Alex. Wes never said anything, but it bothered him. It was his name to Travis, and he wished it had stayed that way.

…

When Wes and Alex started fighting a lot, Wes did his best to keep it from Travis. They had fought before, some of the arguments getting pretty bad, but they somehow fixed themselves. Or maybe they just ignored them. Wes wasn't sure, but he was sure the phase would pass. He didn't want Travis in his business anymore than he wanted him to worry. Months went by, and nothing changed. Wes expected to fight the moment he came home to the time he went to bed. He stayed at work as long as possible and slept at Travis' whenever possible. It didn't help the situation. The more he threw himself into his work and the more time he spent with Travis, the more Alex got frustrated.

Wes thought about talking to Travis about it all. He considered him his best friend, the one person in his life he knew he could trust with his thoughts, secrets, and life. And the one person who would always come back to him. He hated that Travis was that person to him and not Alex, but at the same time, he was thankful for it. He didn't want to drag him into it, though. He knew how much Alex meant to him as a friend.

"Alright, man," Travis said to him one night as the two were about to go to bed. Wes was once again crashing on Travis' couch and for the second time that week, there was no real reason to. "Wanna talk about it?"

"Talk about what?" He ignored the voice in his mind screaming 'yes, yes' and focused on trying to lie to the one person who always saw through him.

"Come on, Wes," he said, "I know when you and Alex are fighting. It hasn't stopped in months. What's going on?"

Wes chuckled a little, if only to defuse some of the tension, "I forgot you're a good detective."

"I don't have to be a detective to know when my friend is upset."

Wes sighed, Travis' words soaking deep within his skin. "She doesn't want me to be a cop anymore. I'm afraid that if I don't go back to my old life, she'll leave."

"Then go back to being a lawyer," Travis told him as he sat down next to him, his heart feeling heavier than usual, "the law firm has a standing offer, doesn't it?"

"I don't want to go back," Wes told him, "this is too important."

"So tell her that."

"She doesn't understand," Wes told him.

"So make her."

"I tried."

"Try again."

"I don't think it's that simple, Trav," his partner told him, "I don't know what to do."

Travis thought about it for a moment, unsure of what to say. He didn't want to lose his partner, his best friend. But he didn't want to lose Alex's friendship, either. And he definitely didn't want Wes to lose his wife, no matter how heavy his heart felt. "I don't know what to tell you," he said, his voice completely serious but not at all rude. "Just, uh, you always have a place to crash. I mean, seriously, your ass print is indented in my couch."

It wasn't what Wes wanted to hear, but maybe it was exactly what he needed.

"Thanks, Trav."

"No problem, Wes."

…

Wes was served with divorce papers soon after. Alex didn't even tell him she wanted one let alone that she had filed the paperwork. Wes was so scared and sad and freaked out by the lack of control that he raced home to confront her about it. She was completely calm, but there were tears in her eyes and Wes couldn't help but think how much he hated seeing her that way. He had come up a dozen different things to say to her. 'I love you', 'Please don't do this', and 'I'm sorry' were only a few, but when it came time to speak, the only thing he could say was, "Why?"

Alex uncrossed her arms and let a few tears fall from her eyes. "I can't live like this anymore," she told him, "I can't wait up at night worrying that you're dead, or kidnapped, or hurt."

Wes didn't say anything. He knew that Alex hated worrying all night and day but there was nothing he could do to change that. It wasn't fair to her, he knew that, but he also couldn't stop being a cop. It was too important to him and to Travis and to the people of L.A.

"Just quit and take your old job back and you can rip those up," she told him, "Promise me you will and you can rip them up now."

Wes was once again silent. He had been avoiding the question for months. He knew it would come to bite him in the ass but he was still caught off guard when actually faced with it.

"Is being a cop more important to you than me?"

"I love you," he finally said, "but I can't stop. I can't go back. You know why."

"...and now you know why I can't have you stay anymore." A few more tears fell. "I'm sorry, Wes."

"Please don't call me that," he muttered, more to himself than to her. He hated himself for saying it, he hadn't meant to. He had, though, and it was too late to take it back.

"Call you what? Wes," she asked, her eyes narrowing slightly. He hit a nerve somehow and it was killing him not to know what.

"Yes," he told her.

"Why not?"

He paused for a moment. "...that's what Travis calls me." He had their divorce papers in his hand, it couldn't hurt to be honest.

"Everyone calls you Wes now."

"I know," he told her, the annoyance evident in his voice.

"...unbelieveable," she muttered, "and reason number two rears its ugly head."

Wes' eyes narrowed, "What are you talking about?" A pause, "Travis? Reason number two is Travis? I thought you liked him. I thought he was your friend."

"I do like him, Wes," she said, completely ignoring his annoyed look. "He is my friend. The problem I have is not with him. It's with you about him."

"What about him?"

"You spend more time with him than me. And don't pull any of the partner crap on me, Wes. You spend more of your spare time with him than me. You go on dates more with him than me. You smile more with him than me. You..."

"Woah, woah," Wes said, raising his hands in defence, "...you think we're gay." He shook his head, "Why would you think for one second that there's something going on between us? I have never cheated on you."

"I never said you did, but do you honestly expect me to believe that there's nothing going on between the two of you? That if I was gone, you guys wouldn't be together?"

"Yes," Wes told her, "I don't have feelings for Travis and he doesn't have those feelings for me."

"Look me in the eye and say that."

It wasn't until then did he realize he was looking at the floor. He looked her in the eye but hesitated before he spoke again. "I do not have feelings for Travis, and he does not have feelings for me."

"You hesitated."

"Of course I hesitated," Wes practically snapped. "This is ridiculous."

"I don't think so," she told him, "and you know what? I don't think you think so, either." She swallowed the lump in her throat and looked like she was contemplating something serious. "We can forget this conversation ever happened. Rip up the papers, and take your old job back. For us."

Wes looked down at the papers for a moment and sighed, "I'm sorry, Alex." And with that, he left.

Ten minutes later he found himself at Travis' trailer. "Travis," he yelled as he knocked. The door opened a moment later to reveal a half naked and half asleep Travis. It looked like he fell asleep on the couch. "...you're ruining my ass imprint."

Travis gave a small laugh, though it sounded anything but happy. "Come on in." He didn't need to be told why Wes was there. The two sat on the couch together for a moment before either one spoke.

"I have the divorce papers."

Travis cleared his throat, still unsure of what to say, "I didn't know she filed..."

"Until an hour ago," Wes started, "neither did I."

"I'm sorry," Travis told him. "Is there any chance...?"

"I don't think so," Wes said honestly, "It was more complicated than I thought."

The two sat in complete silence, the only noise being the game on the small television on the stand in front of them. They sat huddled extremely close together on Travis' small couch. Wes used to hate sleeping on it, but there was something about the trailer and the couch that was comforting now. Maybe it was just Travis. Wes practically leaned on him, not caring about anything more than the fact that he was comfortable.

Travis yawned and looked over at Wes lazily, "I'ma crash. You know where your clothes are. See you in the morning."

"Night," Wes said, but neither made any move. Then, slowly, Wes leaned forward, or maybe it was Travis. Neither one was sure, but their lips met for a brief second before Travis pulled back and practically jumped off the couch.

"Good night," he said and slowly walked to the back of his trailer.

Wes watched him go before looking down at the divorce papers still clenched tightly in his hand. He read them, and then read them again, and once more, before leaning forward and grabbing a pen. He thought of Alex and thought of Travis and thought of his client and thought of the captain and his job and his old job. Mostly though, he thought of Travis.

He signed the papers.

…

No one is sure why or how, but months after Alex and Wes' divorce is final, Wes and Travis start to fight more than usual. The others think their fights are 'lover's quarrels' and continued to ask them if they're still having 'trouble in paradise'. It only seemed to make things worse between them. If anyone asked Wes what went wrong, it was that the two had gotten to know one another. And that was true. If anyone asked Travis, he would say that Wes didn't know anything about him. What made things worse, was that he was also right. They had gotten to know one another so well that they leaned on one another, maybe even loved one another. But the divorce didn't change anything. Travis still dated and slept with more girls than ever and Wes clung to Alex. He only had the two of them, and Travis wasn't ready to catch him if he fell. At the same time, they had spent so much time getting to know one another in their old ways that it was hard to make the transition and neither knew what to do or where to start or even if they should.

The two are still good together. It was the reason the captain never split them up. They still solved their cases faster than anyone else and had the highest percentage in the entire precinct. Mike didn't care that they fought, only that they got along enough to do their jobs. They weren't just good together in their professional lives, but in their personal ones, too. If the one called, the other was there. No questioned asked or even thought of. No one knew it was escalating, not even them. Not until the day Wes pulled his gun on Travis.

They were fighting - again - over girls. Again. Specifically, the girl's Travis dated. Wes hated that Travis dated girls at work. Not only because it made working difficult at times, but because he had to watch them flirt and kiss. He had to go home - if one could call it that - to the hotel and try to sleep when he knew that Travis was kissing her, touching her, moving _inside_ her.

Wes had enough, and nearly blew a gasket when he walked in on Travis and Kelly making out in the break room together. "What the hell?"

The two broke apart like they had been caught by their parents. Travis looked guilty, and Wes took some weird twisted happiness in knowing that Travis felt bad for hurting him the way he did. Even if he didn't know how he did it. Kelly, frightened by Wes who was normally the calm one, quickly left the room.

"What, man," Travis said, trying to save face, "we were, uh..."

"Playing tonsil hockey," Wes questioned, annoyed, "doing the tongue tango? Fighting over a piece of gum?"

"What's your problem?"

Wes hesitated, his throat closing up on him._ I wish it was me,_ he thought against his own will and said instead, "It's unprofessional, Travis, and I'm tired of of you ruining my relationship around here with people."

"Me," Travis asked back and rolled his eyes, "I'm not the one who ruins things. You are, Wesley. You're the one who acts like a robot and is an OCD prick that freaks people out and pushes them away."

Wes froze at the mention of his full name. It felt like his heart had shattered into a million pieces and piled up painfully in his stomach. "Say you're sorry." Maybe he was acting like a child, but so was Travis and Goddamnit, that hurt.

"For what? I didn't do anything wrong."

"Say. You're sorry."

"No."

"Travis!"

"No!"

By now they had gathered an audience, but neither noticed or cared. Wes' chest ached and burned and before he knew it his hand was on his gun and he was shoving it in Travis' face. "Say you're sorry."

Travis didn't even blink. "What are you gonna do, Wes?" His eyes were so present and yet so vacant at the same time. Wes blamed the color. Travis said his name, his name to Travis and Wes felt his anger leave him and he slowly lowered his gun. The damage was done already, though, and less than two minutes later they found themselves in the captain's office getting a sharp tongue lash.

"I'm sending you two to couples therapy."

"Excuse me?"

"Say what now?"

"It did wonders for Helen and myself," Mike told them, his eyes lowered. He looked tired. "It's either that, or probation.

There was silence and it was Travis who finally looked over and Wes. He cleared his throat and said, "Fine."

Another pause, and then, "Fine."

They don't agree to save their jobs. They agree for themselves and for each other, because neither can imagine their lives without each other and they don't want to let go.

…

"You're not the other woman," Travis said suddenly as the two were driving to get something to eat. Phil and Morgan had been gone for days, but it was still eating Travis up inside.

Wes didn't look at him. He couldn't; he was starting to smile a little. "Yea, I know."

…

The two were in therapy for five months, three weeks, and six days before it started to get better. The statement wasn't entirely true. Even before the incident the two were still close and from the very beginning their relationship started to mend and repair itself to something similar to what it used to be. But that was the problem. It went straight back to the way it was and not what either wanted or needed it to be. They were dysfunctional when it came to being working partners. They would always be no matter what they were to one another, but if things changed, at least they would be happy.

Dr. Ryan kept digging, kept looking, kept writing. She seemed to get closer and closer to the truth as time went on, and it both scared and thrilled the two of them. Finally, one day, as the two sat across from her like they always did, she cut Wes off from speaking and said, "You two are in love with one another, aren't you?"

There was complete silence for five seconds before the denial hit them. The others were silent, eyes piecing and for once, not questioning them, but demanding them to realize and understand.

The therapy session continued. Wes and Travis didn't speak again or even dare to look at one another. Travis looked on past Dr. Ryan out the window behind her, pretending he was outside on the beach while Wes pointedly looked at the floor, thinking of anything and everything to keep his mind off of Travis.

…

A week and a half, two cases, and another awkward therapy session later, the two found themselves at the precinct long after everyone else went home. There was something missing, the one and only thing that the two could seem to agree on. Wes thought the doctor was hiding something. Maybe he was guilty, maybe not, but he was sure the doctor knew something he wasn't telling them. Travis didn't care what the doctor knew or didn't know because he was certain it was the ex-girlfriend, who was totally the jilted jealous ex type. There was something connecting them to each other. It was there, they just couldn't see it.

They fought and argued, drank coffee, tried to talk to one another through the evidence and then started all over again. They weren't getting anywhere but more tired and more frustrated. Wes thought about pulling his gun on Travis again and then thought of apologizing for thinking about it. He shook himself, literally shook himself, to pull himself from his thoughts. "Come on," he said, "we're not getting anywhere. We'll pick it up again tomorrow after we sleep."

Travis didn't argue and actually helped pick up before the two headed out and down to the parking structure. It wasn't until they were there did they remember that Travis left his motorcycle at home. They were spending so much time on the case that they didn't bother to come or leave separately.

"I'll call a cab," Travis told him.

"No," Wes shook his head no and nodded for him to get in the car. It felt right.

Travis climbed into the passenger side, too tired to argue. It didn't take long to get to Travis' trailer but by the time they did, Wes looked ready to fall over.

"Wanna crash here for the night?" At that, Wes' head shot up. They had been ignoring what Dr. Ryan said and were being extra careful about what they said and did around one another. It felt right, though, so Travis didn't wait for an answer. He turned the car off and started inside with Wes' keys in his hand. Wes followed with no intention of leaving.

The blond practically collapsed on the couch, his head back and eyed closed. He felt so tired, all he wanted to do was sleep for a year and a half. He couldn't lie down, though. His body was buzzing, his mind fuzzy and racing all at once. Travis was staring at him but he couldn't bring himself to look or ask why.

"You know," the blue eyed man finally said, "your ass imprint is gone." There was a pause, "Might wanna get on that...The, uh, the bed's more comfortable, though." He walked away after that, never turning to look back.

Wes thought about it for a moment. Travis had opened the door and made the first move. But he walked away, and Wes knew that it was up to him to make the next one. He could pretend he didn't catch what Travis said, or that he was too tired to register the hint. He could pretend he fell asleep before he could act...

Wes stood up and walked to the back of the trailer, taking off his jacket as he went. When he walked through the small doorway, Travis' bare back was turned to him. His hands were on his belt, lazily pulling. Wes set his jacket down as carefully as he could off to the side and went to take off his shirt. Travis turned around just as Wes was taking off his socks and he smiled bigger than Wes had ever seen him smile before. Travis wanted to jump him then, but stopped himself. Wes would freak if he lost control, and as much as he loved seeing him so flustered, he didn't want to scare him away. The two settled down together, half naked and tired. Travis kissed Wes' neck once, and then again, just to test it out. His skin was clean and smelt nice, even after the long day. Wes groaned a little. Travis wasn't sure if he was turned on or annoyed, but he wasn't fighting him and that was all the motivation Travis needed.

He moved forward a little, pulling Wes closer and kissing his mouth. "Travis..."

The other didn't say anything, and instead pressed forward until their bodies were molded together. It was an odd fit; no where near perfect and in fact a little uncomfortable at first. But Wes was warm and Travis had this soft, gentle touch about him that made them melt in each other's arms. It wasn't until Travis grinded into him did he realize how painfully hard he was. His hands instantly went to Travis' hips, gripping them as best he could at the angle and groaning a little. Travis nipped his neck, sucking and biting while he pulled the remaining layers from their body. The two slid against one another, hands roaming and touching and tugging gently.

Travis looked down at Wes, his cheeks flushed and lips bruised and out in a slight pout. He smiled, a true smile he didn't dare hide as he leaned down to kiss him again. He moved against him, moved_ inside_ him...

They didn't cuddle, but they didn't move to the complete opposite sides of the bed, either. Travis expected Wes to run away, at the very least get up and shower before returning to bed. But he just laid there, eyes half lidded and sleepy as he watched Travis. He was smiling and it made Travis' heart skip. Travis laid on his back, one arm above his head and the other resting on his chest. Wes was right next to him, turned on his side. His nose was nestled into Travis' shoulder, one arm under his head and the other pressed in-between them.

They fell asleep instantly.

…

A call had them rushing out the door the next day. The doctor and ex-girlfriend were attempting to skip town together and once they were caught they flipped on one another faster than Travis and Wes could blink. The rush of the confessions that usually washed over them seemed distant and empty, and Travis realized Wes was avoiding him. They hadn't talked at all. Travis didn't know what to say and Wes was scared it was all a lie.

Wes took a break from his paperwork to get a cup of coffee. Travis made sure no one was watching before slipping out of his seat and following him into the room. Wes stirred his cream in and turned around. He nearly fell back into the counter, cornered.

"What are you doing?"

Travis just smirked as he took Wes' coffee from his hands and set it down on the table. He grabbed Wes by the back of his head and kissed him, hard and rough, and everything Wes wanted all those months ago when he pulled his gun on his partner.

Brady walked in on them a couple minutes later.

And fainted.

* * *

(A/N) So, tell me what you thought. Really. I want the honest truths. It's a start, really, into the Common Law world. I hope to start and post some more. Super excited ;) I do have a few ideas in mind. I hope to start them soon.

With Love,

Kitty!


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